


Not Yet As We Once Were

by Kastaka



Category: Chronicles of Narnia - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:43:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846509
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kastaka/pseuds/Kastaka
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quiet moment between the younger Pevensies at the end of Caspian's inaugural feast.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Yet As We Once Were

**Author's Note:**

  * For [failsafe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/failsafe/gifts).



Lucy had not thought it was possible to have her fill of dancing, earlier that day; but little by little she began to become tired, and the handfuls of fruit that she took from the great cornucopia became smaller and more restrained. As the light of day was fading, so were her appetites, despite the great light of Aslan's mane that all could see by well enough.

And as the appetites for food and dancing faded, she noticed Edmund again, over to one side of the feast; his plate was filled with the crumbs of every course that had been provided, but he too was reaching the end of his hunger.

"I can't believe you tried the dirt," she said, to begin the conversation. "How was it?"

"Dirty," he replied; but his voice did not have the edge of annoyance it would have if he meant to drive her away, or chastise her for asking such an obvious question. "The texture was surprisingly smooth," he went on, "not like the grittiness one might expect, but then I thought of where dirt comes from, and then I spat it out before I could think any further on it."

She smiles behind her hand, as if she believes that she should not be laughing at that; that she should not know to laugh.

"You look exhausted," he said, patting the ground next to him. "Come and sit; there's room enough for two."

He was, as far as he ever can be, the picture of innocence, but something older and more cautious looked out of her eyes for a moment. He raised his eyes to meet hers, and in them was something older too, hopeful but weary with it; hope that has been raised and dashed too often.

"Do we always have to play these games?" he asked her. "Can't I mean nothing by it, than that you have had a long day, and might want to sit by your brother?"

"I think we are well past that," she said, with a wistful air that might have been regret and might have been fond memories. Whichever it was, she chose to sit by him, and close by; leaning against him like any dear young sister might, after the day's exertions.

He debated whether to put an arm around her, but his arms were out in front of him, with his plate; it would be awkward, and worse, it would be obvious, not merely the natural progression. So instead he simply enjoyed the warmth of her against him in the cooling night air, and without further words they watched the play of the woodland creatures and listened to the susurrus of the trees conversing.

Eventually, he had finished every scrap he had collected - for he had been determined to try every dish of the feast, although no more that were intended for the digestion of those far from the human design - and set down his plate; and in doing so, very gently, he dropped a hand onto her knee.

"We are not yet as we once were," she murmured, but she did not shy away.

"Yet?" he said. "Do you think we will be again?"

"Anything's possible," she reminded him, but she looked up at the lion, and then she blinked sadly and looked away. Aslan was talking to some other people; some of the Telmarines who have joined the party; but she could feel him watching her, all the same. "No," she concluded, and in her tone there is a conflict between sadness and joy - because who could not be joyful in the presence of the Lion, at such a great feast and occasion?

"How do you know these things?" he demanded, turning around to face her directly. Immediately, he regretted the harshness of his tone, but he could not take it back.

"You know I can't explain," she replied, and she reached out a hand to run gently through his hair, as if he was some great beast she was attempting to calm. "And you know I would try, if I thought I was able. It's not that explaining ruins it - it's just - there's nothing to explain. It just happens. Things are as they are. Sometimes I get to see that."

"I'm sorry," he said, "but you know how frustrating it is for me, even if now I do believe you."

"We will be grown again," she replied, "one day. Just not here." There was a low growling noise that spread across the feast then; no, not quite a growl, more of a purring sound. They glanced over instinctively to Aslan, and he seemed to be preoccupied with some other girl who has been permitted to run her hands through his mane; but both of them could tell there was something in it directed at the two of them, as well. "Well, not quite here," Lucy amended, "but... close, I think. Or maybe, maybe only in the part of this that we carry with us."

The tentative note in her voice reminded him of how young she was now; how young they both were. He wrapped his arms around her as an older brother, trying to protect her from the world.

"It's going to be all right," he said. It felt strange for him to be saying that to her. Usually he was the one who would predict dire outcomes, and Lucy would tell him that it was all going to work out for the best.

"I know it is," she said, twisting around to bury her face in his shoulder and show that she accepted his protection, for the moment. "But I still think it's unfair," she whispered, ever so quietly, into his neck. The weight of Aslan's proximity hung heavy in the air around them. "It's not fair that we have to be like this again, and for so long, and go to different schools..."

"Some people would be glad of it," he told her, aiming for reassurance. "You hear them say it all the time. 'If I had my time again...'"

"That's only because they've never tried it," she murmured. The busy day was catching up with her already; he felt her gradually relax against him, and was glad that she could still feel safe in his arms. Although he could not help but attribute some of her relaxation of her guard to the Lion, in whose presence one simply could not be as paranoid and wary as one might be in other circumstances.

"I need to sleep too, you know," he murmured in reply.

"Then lie down, silly," she mumbled, pushing him slightly.

Curled around each other on the soft, mossy grass, they drifted from consciousness together, as the feast continued around them.


End file.
